Shivering now, Samantha squirted the lighter fluid gently and struck a match, having to use three before it finally roared to life, singing her fingertips. Vaguely thinking she had never looked or smelled worse in her life, Sam pulled the blanket tighter around her thin shoulders, huddling as close to the heat as she could.
Needing to know what her wound looked like, she gently pried back the bandage over her leg, trying not to disturb the newly forming scabs. It was still ugly, but clearly improving and she could even put a little weight on it now. Her shaking hands replaced the mostly clean material, thinking it had hurt more than…
Arrrooooooo!
Samantha turned her head and froze at the sight of red, malevolent eyes glaring through the front window. She stared at those eyes for a long moment, reading, evaluating her situation. It had been three days; blizzard cold, the snow was falling heavily even now, and the wolves were still out there…stalking her.
Sscccraatch... ssscchh.
Paws digging at the small gap under the front door got her moving, but her gaze stayed on the window, where more hungry eyes had appeared. She was in trouble, and once again there would be no rescue but the one she provided.
Sam squared her shoulders, feeling the helpless anger that always rose when she thought of the old world now. Fine, if they wanted a war with humans, she would give them a taste of what they were in for.
2
The first thing the Storm Tracker did was give herself a light dose of liquid gold and use the bedpan, glad her leg felt stronger. She would need that.
She dressed as fast as she could, knowing the layered shirts would help protect her from bites and scratches; the sweatpants going over the jeans for the same reason. After tying her dirty blonde braid back, she strapped the gun around her hips, wishing it had more than just two bullets in it.
Samantha chose to make her stand in the corner, to the left of the stone fireplace, and was crying hard tears by the time she had tumbled the cumbersome wooden desk onto its side, pulling it in like a wall.
After stowing all her things behind it, she filled a half dozen syringes with morphine, leaving the caps off, and added them to the knives already in the wide pockets of her trench coat. They made a comforting clink. When the wolves came, it would be through the windows already weakened by the first, strong wave of the blizzard, and it would get cold in here fast.